A Deal with the Devil
by Lady Alinor
Summary: The trio is off hunting Horcruxes. Desperate to find some way to help them, Ginny makes a deal with a very unlikely person in order to get information. PostHBP, no DH spoilers. GWDM. Abandoned.
1. The Proposal

**A/N: **Before you start reading and then get mad, this story has been posted here before. I took it down for my own reasons and revised it, especially the next chapter. I'm posting it again, in hopes that with a fresh start, it'll do better this time. So enjoy!

**A Deal with the Devil**

"And I want at least a foot and a half on the Simple Healing Charm," Professor Flitwick called over the noise of the class.

"Come on, Ginny," Anya said, brushing her dark hair out of her face. "Let's get out of here before he gives us any more homework."

I nodded as I stuffed my books in my bag and rolled up the parchment I'd been taking notes on. "They say sixth year is easier than fifth, but that's an outright lie," I muttered.

Anya laughed, a soft throaty chuckle as she pulled me out of the classroom. "If we start right now, we might be done before Quidditch practice tonight."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Are you serious? Merlin, I forgot! What was Demelza thinking? She knows Thursdays are the worst homework nights!"

Anya just smiled and tugged on my arm. "You'd rather be playing Quidditch than revising any day."

I made a face. "Flying is great and all, but…" I trailed off, suddenly not wanting the conversation to go any further. Flying just hadn't been the same for a long time. It wasn't just because I hated playing Seeker, either.

Anya knew me too well. "Have you heard from them all?" she asked softly.

I looked away. "Not a word. For months."

It was common knowledge that Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't returned for their seventh year at Hogwarts, but no one knew the real reason why. I knew I was probably the only person in the entire school including the professors who knew of the Horcruxes my friends were hunting for, and only because I had made use of some of Fred and George's inventions to spy on their whispered conversations at the Burrow. I guess their crazy inventions did come in handy, huh? Among the students, however, a plethora of stories were circulating, the wildest of them claiming that the trio had joined the Weird Sisters and were now touring in Australia. It was probably a good thing, though The more stories there were, the less likely Voldemort would be to figure out the real reason for the their absence from school.

The Order had been searching for the trio for months, with no success. The only comfort in this fact was that most likely the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to locate my friends either. But if they were dead…

"Earth to Ginny…" Anya's soft voice cut back into my thoughts. "Are we going to work on that essay now, or later?"

"Huh? Oh, let's do it now. If I put it off, I'll be pulling another late-nighter to get it finished. And heaven knows black shadows clash horribly with my hair…"

We both laughed. It felt good to laugh. For a few fleeting moments, I could forget about the load of worry that had been pressing down on me ever since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had disappeared just after Harry's birthday.

We began to climb the staircase to the dorm. Suddenly, I stopped. "Oh darn," I muttered, slapping my forehead.

"What?"

"I left my favorite quill in the classroom."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Again? Want me to come with you?"

"No, it's OK. I'll just meet you in the Common Room," I told her.

"Later then."

I scampered back down four staircases, cursing my forgetfulness. Fortunately the classroom wasn't locked, and I found the quill quickly. I started towards the door, but something drew me back. I paused and looked back at the classroom, torn between two choices—the Charms essay with Anya, or a quiet, _empty _room all to myself? I had secretly been craving solitude for months—just a quiet place for me to think. But another part of me didn't want the solitude. It was much easier for me to try not to think Ron, Harry, and Hermione and how their lives might be in danger when I could surround myself with my classmates and friends.

An empty desk seat was beckoning. I lingered only a moment more before my decision was made. I willingly slipped into the desk and leaned forward, taking in the room. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been here. Maybe one of them had sat in the very same chair I was currently occupying. Ron and Harry had struggled with new charms in this room while Hermione always got them right the first time. Maybe the three had even had their low-key conversations here, using the normal Charms ruckus to cover their whispered chats. Maybe it had been here that Ron first noticed that Hermione was maybe even more than just "a girl."

I slumped back into the chair and tried to think about something—anything—that didn't involve Harry, Ron, and Hermione. But their faces kept pressing themselves into my mind. Ron and Harry laughing wildly at a lame joke while Hermione uselessly admonished them to study from behind a large pile of library books. Ron's brotherly jabs at Quidditch practice, his loyalty and sense of humor, the look on his face when he found Dean and me snogging, and then again when Harry I had shared their first kiss. The late nights Hermione and me had spent talking, first at the Burrow, then during the school year all those times when Hermione had slipped into my dorm to sleep because Parvati and Lavender were getting on her nerves. And Harry…

I didn't want to think about Harry.

The tears I'd been holding back for months began to flow. I fought them back for a few moments before surrendering. No one was here; no one would ever know. I buried my face in my hands, my body shaking with sobs. Why were they doing this to me? Especially Harry. I had thought he had cared about me, but he couldn't just leave me hanging like this. I felt like I was dying without him.

"Weaselette, if you don't stop sobbing all over the bloody floor, we're going to need Bubble-Head charms to breathe."

I froze in horror and rage. I knew that voice. Slowly I turned, holding my wand our carefully.

Malfoy was leaning casually against the door, his cold eyes taking in the scene.

"What are you doing here?" I spat, furiously wiping the tears from my cheeks.

"Free country, Weaselette."

"Leave," I commanded, standing and extending my wand threateningly. "I was here first."

"Tut, tut, I would have thought you to have more etiquette than that, Weasley," Malfoy drawled.

"I have more manners than you'll ever even dream of having, Malfoy," I said contemptuously.

I knew that the Order had tracked Snape to his home in Spinner's End the previous summer after Dumbledore's death. They had captured Narcissa and her son, but Snape had slipped away somehow in the confusion. No one really knew where he was, but the best guess was that he was reunited with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Narcissa had been sent into hiding, Draco back to Hogwarts, where the teachers kept a close eye on him. He was magically imprisoned within the school's boundaries, and forbidden from sending owls or communicating in any form with anyone from the outside world. Most people didn't know that he had tried to murder Dumbledore, and I guessed that he hadn't shared that bit of information with his ever-shrinking group of Slytherin followers. Ever-shrinking, because more Slytherins left every week, it seemed. Only half had come back after the summer.

I pulled my mind back to the present. "What do you want?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Malfoy licked his lips as his eyes wandered up and down my body. I suddenly felt naked, exposed, as his gaze took me—all of me-–in. A feeling of utter revulsion washed over me, and I shrank back. "I think you know what I want," he said, finally meeting my eyes again.

"Dirty-minded rodent," I cried, clutching my robes closer to my body. "I'd rather…I'd rather…"

He smirked as I struggled for a sufficient comparison. "The giant squid would make a better companion than you," I finally sputtered. "I've wasted enough time already. I'm leaving."

My hand had touched the doorknob when I heard his chilling laugh. "I wouldn't leave if I were you, Weasley," he said coolly.

Without wanting to, I paused and slowly turned. "Give me one good reason to stay in this god-damned classroom with the person I detest more than anyone else in the entire world."

"Three words, blood traitor. Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood."

Goosebumps appeared on my arms, unrelated to the drafty Charms classroom. What did Malfoy know? "Why would you care about them?" I said slowly.

"I don't, Weasley. But you do."

I waited.

"They aren't at school this year. Potty probably got it into his overlarge head that he is the blasted Chosen One and took it on himself to single-handedly defeat the Dark Lord."

I twisted a lock of hair impatiently. What was he getting at?

"He's probably being pursued by Death Eaters this very moment. Your precious boyfriend's life is in danger."

"I know that, Malfoy. Stop wasting my time," I snapped.

He rolled his eyes. "You don't get it, do you? Damn, Weasley, you're thicker than I thought."

I glared at him, but said nothing, knowing that eventually he would get to the point. Draco Bloody Malfoy liked to take his time, drawing out the performance.

"I'm just saying, I've noticed you moping around the last few months and thought you might like to feel useful for a change."

"_Useful_? Useful to you?"

"Heck, no," he said. "Well, maybe…" Once again, he eyed my body, and I took another step back.

"Get to the point, Malfoy."

"I might be feeling generous tonight," he hinted. "Generous enough to strike a deal."

"What kind of deal?" I said warily, edging away, but suddenly finding myself against the wall.

"God, Weasley. Do I have to spell it out? I have information that might be useful to Potty and his tag-alongs…information about the Horcruxes."

"How…how did you know?" I gasped, horrified. It felt as if someone had just punched me in the stomach. Malfoy knew about the Horcruxes. Would he tell Voldemort if I didn't do what he wanted? What _did_ he want?

Malfoy snorted. "My home practically used to be Death Eater Headquarters. Let's just say that it's not hard to overhear…certain things."

I shivered. "Do they know? The other Death Eaters? About the Horcruxes?"

He regarded me coldly for a long moment, then spoke. "I don't think they do. But I heard enough from them and my parents to wonder why the Dark Lord was guarding certain objects so carefully. I did some research, and discovered the truth for myself."

"The Hogwarts library doesn't have any information about Horcruxes," I said, looking desperately for holes in his story. I knew because I had overheard Hermione telling Ron that during the summer.

"Why would I use the Hogwarts library when I've got a library of dark magic books at Malfoy Manor that would make Durmstrang's collection look small in comparision?" he sneered.

"And why would you be willing to suddenly spill information?" I challenged. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

His eyes narrowed. "The only connection I've got with that world anymore is this blasted mark." He shoved up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark on his forearm, and I bit my lip and tried to stomach my revulsion. "They have given me nothing. My mother's in hiding, my father in Azkaban. From now on, I'm working for only one person…me."

"How very noble of you."

"I don't see you doing anything brave and noble to help Potty. Little Weaselette's just sitting at school, pretending nothing's happening. Bet you've forgotten all about your so-called friends."

"I have not!" I cried, my voice rising furiously. "I have not forgotten them! I…I…just don't know what to do." It hurt to admit it, especially to my worst enemy.

"Now you know."

I felt a chill fill the room that hadn't been there before. "What do you want in return for information?" I said slowly, already knowing the answer, dreading his response.

Malfoy paused. "Let me see…" he said, scratching his chin sarcastically. "Um… I want… Galleons? Naw… plenty of those in my Gringotts account. Information? Nope. Help with revising? No…. Now that Granger's gone I've got the best scores in my year. What do you think I want, Weasley?"

I cringed as he took a step closer, his eyes traveling hungrily over me. "I want you."

He was too close now… I could feel his hot breath on my face, and his arms gripping my shoulders.

With a mighty shove, I freed myself. Malfoy landed hard on the floor. "Never," I screeched at him feverishly. "I would never lower myself to such a level! Never."

As I made my escape, I heard his words echoing behind me. "You'll come around, Weaselette. Just think about it."


	2. The Decision

Anya looked up as I flew into the Gryffindor Common Room. "Where were you?"

"Talking to Luna," I lied, collapsing into the chair next to her. I was still shaken from my conversation with Draco Bloody Malfoy. Anya already had nearly two feet of parchment filled with her neat miniscule writing and a stack of reference books spread across the table. "Is the essay hard?"

"No. I'm almost done. You can look at mine when I finish."

"Thanks," I said gratefully. I wasn't sure I could concentrate on writing an essay from scratch right now.

I sat there for a few minutes, flipping through one of Anya's books, not really paying attention to the pictures and words.

"There," Anya said, finishing the last word with a flourish and quickly casting an Instant-Drying charm on the essay. "It's done."

I held out a hand, and the essay flew to me. I caught it and looked it over. "This is a little too lengthy, isn't it?" I said doubtfully, scanning her essay. "I mean, you even quoted famous Healers…"

I looked up and saw Anya watching me. "Ginny, you should really tell someone about your wandless magic."

My face flushed red. "Oh, that. Sorry…I didn't even realize I did it."

"And that's precisely the reason you should talk to McGonagall or one of the teachers," Anya argued. "They would probably want to know."

"I don't want them to make a big deal," I hedged. "Besides, they're all so busy right now. Maybe the wandless stuff will go away in time."

I knew I was just making stuff up to get out of confessing. Anya knew it too.

"Can you do regular spells?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Not standard level spells, but sometimes I can do simple charms. Mostly it's just…" I trailed off, not really wanting to sound like I was bragging or not.

"Go on," Anya urged.

"It's weird," I said, lowering my voice. "It's like ever since last year I've become more aware of the magic around me. It began slowly, with just little things. I first noticed it with the nonverbal household spells that my Mum does. It was like suddenly I could feel the magic moving from one place to another. Then the feeling started getting more powerful, and I started to sense magic all the time. In everything. The air, the ground, the spells, the wizarding stuff we have at home, in me…"

I swallowed. Now she'd really think I was weird. But Anya simply nodded. "And…?"

"And so I started experimenting it. I started seeing if I could channel some of the magic together to make objects move. It worked."

"So you can move items? Is it more like the summoning and banishing spells, or is it more like levitating?"

Both," I said, shrugging, a little embarrassed that she seemed so interested. "The farther away the objects are from me, the harder it is for me to move them."

"Can you shut the curtains?" Anya asked, pointing to the red drapes hanging over the window across the room.

"I don't think so," I said. But I knew I could. "Besides, there's too many people in the Common Room right now. Um, about that essay?"

Anya snapped back. "Oh, right, the essay," she said, taking it back from me. "Are you sure you want to start now? I mean, it's almost six. Remember? Quidditch practice?"

I groaned, wondering if Demelza would be too upset if I just didn't show. "I don't want to go," I muttered before I could stop myself.

Anya watched me, concern lining her face. "Gin? Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," I said, a little too quickly.

"Are you sure? You seem…well, a little different. Did something happen after class?"

"Nothing happened," I snapped, finally loosing it. "Just mind your own business!"

As I fled up the stairs to the dormitory, I regretted my rudeness. Anya was one of the only friends I had right now, and she had proved her loyalty again and again in the previous months.

Why did the stupid ferret have to confront me like that? Why did this have to happen to me in the first place? Wasn't my life bad enough already without this added stressor? I angrily threw off my robes and fished around in my trunk for my Quidditch uniform. I grabbed my broom and headed down the stairs at a rum.

The table where Anya had been was deserted. I silently cursed myself for my harsh words. Now I'd have to wait until after practice to apologize.

With one last glance at the empty table, I headed out the portrait hole.

* * *

Quidditch practice was horrible. For me, anyway. In our warm up, I dropped the Quaffle four times, and during the practice game, I didn't spot the Snitch once. Demelza pulled me aside after practice. 

"Is everything alright?" the Gryffindor captain asked, pushing her dark hair out of her face.

"I'm OK," I said, sighing. "Everything just kind of built up today. And I had a run-in with Malfoy."

Demelza made a face. "I'm sorry. What did the slimy git want?"

I looked away. "I'm a girl," I said in a lower voice. "What do you think he wanted?"

Demelza's eyes widened. "The nerve of him! Bloody bastard!"

I listened half-heartedly as Demelza set a new record for the number of insults in one sentence describing one person. At least my friend was standing up for me. Suddenly I realized Demelza had asked me a question.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"What did you tell Malfoy?"

"What do you think? I told him no, not in this lifetime."

"Good," she said, looking satisfied. "He needs a deflation. He thinks he's so bloody sexy he can have any girl he wants eating out of his hand."

I said nothing. I was still trying to banish the other things Malfoy had said from my mind. But his words haunted me as I followed Demelza up the staircases to the Gryffindor Common Room.

_Bet you've forgotten all about your so-called friends,_ Malfoy had taunted.

_I have not forgotten them! I…I…just don't know what to do, _I had screamed.

His chilling words still echoed in my mind. _Now you know._

"Pogrebin," Demelza said to the Fat Lady, who sniffed and swung open.

To my relief, Anya was once again in the Common Room, her books spread out over a back table. I rushed over.

"Anya, I'm sorry…" I began, but the dark-haired girl waved me away.

"It's OK, Ginny, really," Anya said, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "You were upset, that's all."

I lowered myself into the next chair, and my shoulders slumped. "I still shouldn't have yelled at you."

"What are friends for?" the other girl said simply. "Go change, and then we'll work on the essay."

"Oi, Ginny, over here," Dean called as I entered the Great Hall the next morning for breakfast. I smiled politely and marched past him, over to where Demelza and Anya sitting next to Colin Creevy.

"That Thomas bloke needs to take a hint," Demelza said angrily after greeting me.

"He won't leave me alone," I sighed, plopping down next to Anya and serving herself some scrambled eggs. Dean had been following me all year long. "Gosh, he thinks that just because Ha…" I gulped. "…just because Harry isn't around he can make moves on me again," I finished, determined to act normal. I could do this. I could get over Harry.

Colin was eying me interestedly, but to my relief, Anya and Demelza were acting as if nothing unusual had happened. "He should just get a life," Anya said. "And a girlfriend. Then maybe he wouldn't follow you around all the time."

Colin had regained his composure. "Or you need a boyfriend. Maybe then he'd leave you alone."

I raised my eyebrows. "And who'd you suggest?"

Colin grinned slyly. "Me. Want to go out with me, Ginny?"

Anya and Demelza went in to fits of giggles. I merely rolled my eyes. "That's like the twenty-second time you've asked me, Colin. And the answer is still no."

"Wow, you counted!" Colin said, not looking put out at all. "Maybe the twenty-third time will be the charm."

I opened my mouth to reply that even if he asked me a million times, the answer would still be no, but at that moment there was a commotion as fifty owls soared into the Great Hall. To my surprise, a tiny brown owl was soaring towards me carrying an envelope that was twice its size.

"Look, Ginny, you've got a letter," Colin said excitedly. "Who's it from? Hey, isn't that Ron's owl?"

"It was," I said, absentmindedly stroking Pigwidgeon as I untied the letter from his leg. "But Ron gave the owl to Mum last…last summer. Before he…disappeared."

I ripped open the letter. "It's from my mum," I informed the onlookers.

_Dear Ginny_, the letter read.

_I have charmed this letter so only you can read it. How is school going, dear? Your father and I miss you horribly. Fred and George drop in every so often, and we see Bill and Charlie at Order meetings, but other than that, the house is much too quiet._

_No news from Ron, Harry, or Hermione. The Order is still looking for them. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I will against my better judgment because you deserve to know. Remus and Tonks searched Godric's Hollow—the home Lily and James lived in before they were killed—and found signs of a recent fight. There were blood stains on the ground and some complex spellwork revealed that some of the curses were cast with Ron and Harry's wands. We don't know what happened. Maybe they ran into Death Eaters, or maybe it was someone else attacking them. If all three were there though, the fact that there are no traces of Hermione's wand being used makes it seem as if she was hurt or otherwise unable to cast spells. I'm so worried and I probably _

_Ginny, you're all I have left now, so please stay safe! Don't do anything rash, and if you hear anything suspicious going on, you know who to tell. There are plenty of trustworthy Order members at Hogwarts, and you can confide in them._

_Love, Mum_

I stared at the letter, my head reeling. Ron and Harry and Hermione… They were attacked. Hermione was most likely hurt, if not dead. Maybe they'd been captured. My brother, Hermione, and Harry… Oh no, oh no, no, no….

The world was beginning to spin.

"Ginny? Ginny! What's wrong?"

Demelza's voice was coming from far away. I hardly felt several sets of hands pushing me to my feet and guiding me out into the Entrance Hall. Someone was pushing down on my shoulders. Wearily I obeyed and sank down onto the bottom step of the staircase. A cool goblet was being shoved into my hand, and willingly, I drank.

"Ginny! Are you OK? What happened?" Anya said loudly. Finally, her words made it through into my mind.

I looked up, and found Anya, Demelza, and Colin, all staring down at me with anxious expressions. "The letter," I muttered. "Some Order….some of Mum's friends found traces of Harry and Ron's spells in an old house. There was blood all over the floor, and they think Hermione was badly hurt."

Anya sat down next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Ginny….I'm sure they'll be alright, though. You know Harry, he's the best dueller at Hogwarts. He ran the DA. They're smart…if Hermione's hurt they'll get help. They wouldn't do anything to hurt her. It'll be OK!"

I took several deep breaths and brushed away a few unwanted tears from my eyes. She was right. Harry was too smart to let a bunch of Death Eaters get him like that… He'd take care of Ron and Hermione. I was certain.

Was I? I knew Harry had faced Voldemort many times, but what if this time had been the unlucky one? His luck couldn't hold forever. I closed my eyes and tried to squeeze the worry out of my mind, but it stayed there, lurking in the back like an ominous shadow.

_Get a hold of yourself,_ I ordered myself.

_But I don't want to,_ another part of me complained.

_Everyone's watching. _Everyone was watching? That jerked me back into reality. I opened my eyes and looked up at my friends.

"Merlin's Beard," I said softly as Colin helped me stand again. "Don't tell a soul, OK?"

"Of course not," Demelza said firmly, elbowing Colin in the ribs, who was looking disappointed.

"Oh, er, sure, I guess," he stuttered. "I didn't hear a thing."

I smiled weakly. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

* * *

I had resolved to put the whole Malfoy incident behind me, but that was becoming impossible for several reasons. One, I couldn't stop thinking about the letter Mum had sent me. What if Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all hurt? What if they had been captured? Maybe they were dead. Their faces kept pushing themselves into my mind again and again. I wished I knew for sure—knowing that they were indeed captured or dead must be better than not knowing anything for sure. Every time the pessimistic thoughts entered my mind, anxiety balled up in the pit of my stomach. As a result, I only picked at my lunch and supper, unable to eat. 

The second reason I was having a hard time putting the Malfoy incident behind me was quite simple, actually. The reason was Malfoy.

Suddenly Draco-Bloody-Malfoy had taken to stalking me. When I rushed to classes, he was lurking in corners, leering at me. When I ran to the Gryffindor Common Room, he was a the top of one of the staircases, just watching. When I sat in the Great Hall, I had taken to always sitting with my back to the Slytherin table. But even this measure didn't stop the prickling sensation that I experienced—without looking, I knew that from the Slytherin table, he was staring at me.

My friends noticed it too.

"God, he's a bloody bastard," Demelza spat as they headed down to the pitch one Tuesday afternoon. "Following you like that. If it were me, I'd have killed him already."

I buried my face in my hands. "It's living hell! He won't leave me alone."

"Hex him."

I sighed. "It won't work, 'Melza. Not with Malfoy. It will just make him more persistent."

Demelza arched her eyebrows. "He hasn't seen your Bat-Bogey Hex, has he?"

We laughed. Then Demelza sobered. "Honestly, Ginny, be careful."

I stopped in my tracks. "Why? I can take care of myself."

Demelza shrugged. "I know, but there's no reason for you not to be cautious. He is a Malfoy, after all. His dad's a Death Eater."

"His father is in Azkaban," I said carelessly. "I'm not afraid of any Malfoy."

"And you shouldn't be. I'm just advising you to be careful, Ginny. Malfoys get what they want."

"Not this Malfoy," I shot back.

But Demelza's words lingered in my mind and reappeared whenever I passed the offending Slytherin in the hall, or whenever I felt his eyes burning holes in the back of my robes. And at night, I was haunted by Demelza's observation: Malfoys get what they want.

**Author's Note: **This is a "Ginny's the seventh child and the first girl in several generations so she's a little more powerful than she realizes" story. No, it will not be Super!Ginny. I was disappointed, however, about the results of book seven. Ginny deserved a little more spotlight, and for months we heard rumors that she was really powerful because of the whole seventh child stuff.

This story not follow DH in any way.


	3. The Plan

The next morning, my decision was made.

It had not been made lightly, but neither had I spent hours sighing over the pros of cons of accepting Malfoy's offer.

That's right, I said accepting.

The sad truth was simply this: I was desperate. So desperate to feel useful that I was willing to drop to the lowest of levels simply for information.

There were prerequisites, of course. First, I had to find a secure way to send Ron, Harry, and Hermione the information. There was no use groveling at Malfoy's feet for information if I couldn't even convey it to the people I was trying to help. Second, he had to be willing to accept my conditions—I knew what he ultimately wanted, but I absolutely refused to sell my virginity for his information. Kissing, OK. Making out, OK. Having sex, not OK.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely inexperienced. I've come close to loosing my virginity several times with various boyfriends. But something always held me back—probably the gut feeling that the particular boy wasn't the right one. I wanted to save myself for the right guy.

For years I imagined Harry as the right one. But in the last couple months, my premonitions had been shattered. He left me…here, all alone… I completely understood that destroying Voldemort was…is more important than maintaining a relationship, but I still couldn't get over the fact that he'd left me behind.

Last summer, I was sure I could wait for him. I could be the brave princess who waits for her prince to finish conquering the dragons and monsters before he rides home on a white horse. Now…

The fact that the trio hadn't even kept in contact had been the worst. They didn't know what we were going through. They didn't know how any mention of their names reduced Mum to tears. They didn't know the sleepless nights I'd spent wondering, worrying, wishing that I could know for sure…

And I couldn't take it anymore.

I needed to move on. I needed to take control. I needed to feel like I was helping.

And I needed to feel free. Even if that meant dating other boys again. I knew that I still loved Harry. I knew because of the deep ache in my chest, the dreams I had at night, the times in class that I doodled his name on the edges of my forgotten notes. But the feeling of abandonment had become too much.

I needed to let go.

So I wrote The Letter. Actually, it was three letters: one for Harry, one for Ron, and one for Hermione. The letter to Hermione was simply so she didn't feel left out. You see, the Order had been sending owls to the trio ever since they disappeared. The letters had never been responded to, but then again, the owls had never brought the un-open letters back. We were pretty sure that they were getting their mail.

_Dear Hermione,_

_OK, this is awkward. I know I haven't written you guys at all… I've left that to the Order members. So, how's life? _

_Life here is OK. I'm keeping busy at Hogwarts. Demelza's the Quidditch Captain this year, and she forced me to be Seeker. Classes are good, of course. It's nice to have a little lighter load after O.W.L. year, although I know I really should begin studying for N.E.W.T.'s. Gee, Hermione, you've worn off on me! _

_Uh… Let's see… Parvati and Dean are going out. Lavender is having a short fling with this Hufflepuff boy, but I have no doubt she'll be back with Seamus by next week. Even Neville's got a girlfriend—you'd never guess who. Hannah Abbott! Yeah, Ernie dumped her for a Ravenclaw fifth year… she was so mad, but then Neville screwed up his courage and asked her out. We were all surprised… but I'll bet you anything he's liked her for years and never told anyone. _

_Not like you really wanted to hear all the relationship gossip anyway… But I thought you should know that Ivan Cloutier asked me out, and I've accepted_. (This was a lie. Ivan Cloutier fancied Lisa, I was sure. But I needed Harry to know for sure that I'd moved on, and I was pretty sure Hermione would tell him.)

_How're things going with you three? You should write back and tell me. Ha ha… If you were going to reply to these stupid letters we keep sending you, I'm sure you would have done it by now. _

_You know we all mean well, don't you? I mean, Dumbledore did leave you three a task, and you need to finish it. I just wish you could do it without tearing all of us to pieces._

_Now I'm going to sound like Mum, but I've got to say this: Please be careful. If you three got yourselves killed, I'd never, ever, ever forgive you. Ever. Or myself, for that matter._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

(Long pause, as I consider what to write.)

_Long time no see. OK, that was dumb, scratch that._

_I'm just going to be straight with you: I need to move on. I can't sit here pining over you any longer. This is slowly killing me—you being gone, me being stuck here, and I can't handle it anymore. _

_I think I've found a way to help you guys, though. See Ron's letter for more information._

_But that doesn't change what I said before. I hope you can understand what I'm trying to say. _

_I'm sorry._

_Ginny_

_Ronald Weasley, don't even think about not replying to this letter._

_Before you freak out about all the super-confidential information I've included in here, the ink has been charmed with one of my special unbreakable spells. Only you can read it. And if that wasn't enough, the letter will self-combust if anyone bearing a Dark Mark touches it. Not to mention that I've written it in the code you and I used to use when we were little._

_OK…Here it goes…_

_I know about the Horcruxes. I know that you three are looking for them, and that you hope to make Voldemort mortal once again so Harry can defeat him once and for all like that stupid prophecy says._

_Before your lower jaw drops off the edge of the planet, I'll say only that you three really ought to have ridded the Burrow of Extendable Ears before you held your secret conferences in your room upstairs. You forget that Bill's room is right underneath, and there's a few thin floorboards…_

_So, I've got a deal to offer you. I have a source—a source for information. This person knows about the Horcruxes as well, and he doesn't plan on telling anyone. Anyway, he's hinted that he has information about the locations and identities of several of the pieces of Voldemort-soul, and he's willing to relay that information to me. _

_Do you want me to pass the data on to you three?_

_Actually, I'm not giving you a choice. Either you reply to this letter and say you want the information, or I'm packing up my bags and heading out to look for the Horcruxes myself. Besides, I'll have a good idea where they are…and you three will be in the dark._

_You don't think I'm serious, do you, Ronald? I'm more serious about this than I've ever been about anything before in my life._

_I'm just doing this because I love you. I love you, and Hermione, and Harry…and if that's not something to be serious about, I don't know what is._

_Waiting for your reply (the one you're going to send RIGHT NOW)…_

_Your sister, _

_Ginny_

I blew on the last letter and re-capped my ink bottle. I took one last look at the letters and smiled. If that didn't do the trick…I wasn't sure what would. Maybe a Howler.

But another part of me was fretting. Why would they reply to my letter? What if they were actually being held hostage by Death Eaters who were confiscating their mail? What if Bellatrix Lestrange's secret ambition was actually to be a hairdresser in Diagon Alley?

I really need to stop this useless worrying, I thought, grinning at the last random question that had floated through my mind. Either they would reply, or they wouldn't. And I still wasn't sure what I'd do if they didn't. That decision would be made later.

* * *

The next couple days seemed to last an eternity. I couldn't concentrate, I chewed the ends of my quills to bits, I put eye shadow on my cheeks and blush on my eyelids, I wore pink and yellow socks that clashed marvelously with my black school robes, I missed the Snitch even when it hovered two feet above my head for ten good minutes, and I drove all my friends crazy. 

"What is up with you?" Anya complained at breakfast four days later.

"Nothing," I muttered, picking at my eggs and bacon. In reality, I had only come to breakfast to watch for an owl. Who could tell? Today might be the day.  
A stupid little voice in my head told me that if Ron was going to reply, he'd have done it by now. But maybe they were taking time to discuss my offer… Maybe…

"Don't 'nothing' me," Anya snapped. "You just spread jam over your fried eggs, Ginny! What's going on?"

"Nothing, I swear," I said, keeping an eye on the high windows. Any minute now, several dozen owls would come sweeping through the window…

I think Anya gave up on me, because she muttered something incomprehensible under her breath and stomped away, leaving a good portion of her food uneaten.

I sat there for a few more minutes, pushing the food around on my plate. Why weren't the owls here yet? Maybe they weren't coming today… Maybe the Ministry had suddenly decided to start screening all our owls like Umbridge did during my fourth year… Maybe Ron's owl had gotten sucked away in a tornado or eaten by a… well, a bigger owl…

And then, with a rushing sound like wind, the flock of owls swept into the Great Hall.

Oh Merlin… Let this be the day…

And then, as if Merlin was listening from his exalted position in the afterlife, a black school owl broke free from the flock and soared in my direction—the same owl I'd used to send my letter to the trio.

I wasn't even aware that I'd been holding my breath until my lungs began to burn as I snatched the letter out of the owl's grasp.

Time stood still for a minute as I just stared at the envelope. Ginny Weasley, the scrawled handwriting read. Ron's handwriting.

And then the whole world spun as I jumped to my feet and dashed out of the hall. I ducked into the first empty alcove I found and tore the letter open.

_Ginny,_

_Bloody hell. Don't go throwing around the H word so casually! You could get us killed._

_We're fine. Hermione's still recovering from our last encounter with Death Eaters, but she'll be OK. Harry's good, although his scar is hurting him a lot now. Me? I'm just hungry. Any chance you can send some Hogwarts food with the next owl you send? _

_Ooouuuch! Sorry, Hermione just slapped me. She's reading over my shoulder. She says hello._

_Anyway, after much deliberation (Ha, I thought. They had been deliberating!) we have decided to accept your offer. But you have to tell us who the bloke is who's giving you information! I don't like the sounds of him._

_And for your information, we're ONLY accepting your offer because we don't want you running after us! You're not even of age yet. Please, Ginny, you don't want to get mixed up with all of this. _

_Oh, and Harry says to tell you that he understands. Whatever that means. What did you tell him, Gin? He's clammed up all of the sudden (not like it hasn't happened before, though) but I think Hermione knows something and neither are telling me anything!_

_I should probably wrap this up… Oh, and Ginny? If you tell Mum or any of the Order that I wrote you, the whole deal is off._

_Ron_

I reread the letter three times, and then promptly broke down in tears. They were alive. They weren't dead, or being held by Death Eaters, or stuck in the middle of Siberia in the winter…

Actually, the letter hadn't said exactly where they were. All the better. It wasn't likely that Death Eaters were going to intercept my mail, but better safe than sorry. At least the trio had been careful—I could feel the magic of the "For Ginny's Eyes Only" spell radiating off of the parchment.

Looking at my watch, I realized that soon I'd be late to my class.

Hugging the letter one last time, I slipped it into my pocket and headed back up to the dormitory to collect my books.

* * *

Now that part one of my plan was completed, I had to execute part two—the most tricky part. Getting close enough to Malfoy to pass him the message that I wanted to meet him again. 

I took the opportunity as Anya, Colin, and I headed back to the Common Room after dinner. As we passed Malfoy and his faithful followers, I purposely brushed against him.

Instantly, I jumped back, drawing my wand. "Watch where you step, Malfoy," I hissed.

A circle formed immediately. Anya and Colin backed me up, as well as a few other Gryffindors who happened to be there at the time. Crabbe and Goyle stepped up beside Malfoy, and I could see Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Zabini in the background.

"If I remember correctly, it was you, Mudblood lover, who knocked into me," Malfoy sneered, but I could see a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

"Liar," I said stubbornly. "You act like you rule the hallways, Ferret, but you don't. Stay away from me."

"I'm not sure you want to be picking a fight with me, Weaselette," Malfoy drawled, twirling his wand lazily. "You might get hurt, you know. Especially since you don't have your friends around to fight for you anymore… Where are Scarhead, Weasel, and that Mudblood anyway? Oh, that's right! They're _gone_!"

All his friends laughed, and I felt my face growing pale. This time, Malfoy's words really hurt. I could feel my magic crackling and popping inside of me, but I struggled to maintain control. If I lost it and hexed him, my whole plan would fall through. "I could take you alone, Malfoy," I said coldly, glaring at him. "In fact, I could beat you and _eight_ of your pathetic friends."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Weaselette," Malfoy said, all the humor gone form his voice. His cold gray eyes glittered, and I fought the urge to retreat. Once upon a time, Draco Malfoy was just a spoiled rich kids full of empty threats, but no longer. Somehow I knew that taking the Dark Mark had signified a change in the pale Slytherin's threats.

Instead of shrinking back, I tossed my hair defiantly. "Give it up, Malfoy. I'm better at everything. I could best you any day in _Charms_, and EVERYONE says Charms is the easiest class at Hogwarts."

Malfoy's face was an emotionless mask; I wasn't sure if he'd gotten the hidden message in my words. Ah well. If he didn't, he was too big of a dunce for me to waste my time. "I don't have time for this," I said distastefully. "I've got better things to occupy my time with."

I stalked away, and the crowd parted for me. But I couldn't resist one last jab. At the outskirts of the crowd, I stopped and turned back. "Oh, by the way, Malfoy, how much did your father have to pay to bribe the O.W.L. examiners to pass you in Defence class?"

From the shocked expression on his face, I guessed that I'd actually made a correct guess. Before he could hex me, I darted away, and the crowd closed behind me, blocking the angry Slytherins trying to get through.

Mission accomplished.

**Now you know what I want...lol**

**And for a few review replies...**

**mell8 -** I totally agree. Ginny's powers were really not talked about much in book seven... I intend to make up for that in this story.

**Shy Susanna Malfoy and lemon wedges4-** thanks a lot for your reviews! Hope you like this chapter.

**brigrove** - I too wish we'd seen a lot more of Ginny in the books. I guess we fanfiction writers have to compensate for Rowling's lack of romance in her books, huh? lol.


	4. The Charms Classroom

At five to eight, I was in the corridor outside the Charms classroom.

My heart beating wildly, I paused to pull myself together and I leaned against the cold stone wall. Whether Malfoy was already inside or whether he had yet to appear, I didn't know.

_Stop being a baby, _ I told myself. _You could beat Malfoy in a duel any day._ _Trust yourself. Just go in there and get the job done. Remember why you're doing it._

For Harry. For Ron. That was why I was doing this. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and pushed the door open.

He was leaning casually against the far wall, and looked up coolly when I entered. His stiff school shirt was unbuttoned at the throat; his outer robes thrown carelessly on a desk nearby.

"So you finally decided to show up," Malfoy remarked. "I wasn't sure if you'd have enough guts."

"I've got more guts than you ever will," I snapped. _You couldn't even kill __Dumbledore unarmed_ I mentally added, but decided that if I wanted to get anything at all out of this meeting, I'd better not push him too far. "I wasn't even sure you'd be able to decode my message, Malfoy. Did Crabbe and Goyle have to help you out?"

Not a feature of his face twitched. He certainly was good at maintaining control, and I made a mental note of the observation. "Your 'hidden message' was pathetic. I've met Hippogriffs who could come up with better."

"Highly unlikely," I shot back. "Knowing your fear of them. I doubt you'd get within a hundred feet of one even if your life depended on it."

"Your comebacks were much wittier when you had Potty, Weasel, and the Mudblood telling you what to say," he retorted, and I bit back a bitter reply.

"This is getting nowhere," I said reasonably. "I don't know about you, but I didn't come here to bicker."

There was a long pause. "So you've decided to take my offer," he said, smirking as he straightened and took a few steps closer to me.

I swallowed. _Courage…courage…_ "Yes."

Triumph flashed in his icy gray eyes, and I shrank back before I could stop myself. "Conditions," I squeaked. "There must be conditions."

Malfoy stopped his slow advance and the edge of his mouth curved into a chilling smile. "Name them."

"First," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I won't sleep with you. Period. If you can't accept that, then I might as well leave now."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "You're still a virgin," he said unbelievingly. "God, Weasley, I would have thought that surely by now, with Dean's reputation, anyway…"

"You shouldn't be talking about reputations," I said angrily. "Who is it this week, Malfoy? Parkinson? Greengrass?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he sneered. "You honestly think you'll get me to willingly give you information without…"

His voice trailed off, and I didn't like the gleam that appeared in his eyes. "Done," he said suddenly.

"Done?" I repeated incredulously. Had he just accepted my condition?

"Done. What else?"

Taken aback , but a little encouraged by the victory I'd just won, I pressed on. "The second condition is that there will be no…no removal of clothing."

"But that takes all the fun out of it," Malfoy whined. I glared at him, and he shrugged. "Done."

What did he want? I knew he was up to something…obviously under normal circumstances he wouldn't have given in like that…not Malfoy, the resident male whore of Hogwarts.

"Third condition," I continued. "You will swear a Wizard's Oath that everything you tell me will be the truth."

"I—_what?"_

"A Wizard's Oath," I repeated.

"You've got to be joking. No. My answer is no."

"Then the deal's off," I said sharply, and turning on my heels, I headed for the door.

"Come back here, Weasley," Malfoy commanded.

I ignored him, but a moment later I heard a slight movement behind me and instantly I could feel a force of magic flying toward me from behind. Instantly, I spun out of the way and in one fluid motion pulled out my wand, pointing it directly at his heart.

Malfoy stood facing me, his wand out as well. "Drop it," I hissed.

"No," he said haughtily. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Well, I'm sure as hell done with you," I snarled, beginning to inch towards the door.

A flick of his wand sent another curse sailing towards me. I ducked again, loosing my temper. "Stupefy!" I yelled, at the exact same time he shouted, "Impedimenta!" Our spells collided and ricocheted off the walls.

"What do you still want?" I grated out, slowly circling. "You already have my answer!"

"What if I told you I'd reconsidered and decided to accept your final condition…"

"What?" I said, unknowingly dropping my outstretched wand a few inches in surprise.

"…on the condition that you take the same vow," he finished.

I _knew _there had to be a catch.

"No," I said flatly.

Malfoy gritted his teeth. "Don't be a baby," he snapped. "You don't trust me, I don't trust you. So we've established that. The only way this would EVER work would be through the Oath, Weasley. That way you'll know I'm not feeding you false information, and I'll know that you're not lying to me when you tell me what you already know and what information you lack."

Draco Malfoy, bloody voice of reason. I never thought I'd see the day, but he was right—the Oaths were the only way. We'd have surety that the other wasn't telling lies…

_I'm doing it for Harry, Ron and Hermione,_ I reminded myself. And for the good of the enitre population of Magical residents of Britain, if I stopped to think about it.

I reluctantly agreed, knowing that once the Oath was completed, there was no turning back. After much heated arguing about the nature, consequences, and exact wording of the Oath, we finally agreed on a spell with the duration of one year and the consequence of a purple face if one of us lied to the other. Malfoy wanted a much harsher consequence like boils or some other unpleasant hex, but I put my foot down.

Finally, we touched wands, and I began: "I solemnly swear that I will speak nothing but the truth as I know it to Draco Malfoy accepting the conditions of this Oath." Malfoy went next, practically spitting out my given name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Then we repeated the carefully modified enchantment together and a blue glow surrounded our wands.

When the light faded, I stepped back. "Did it work?"

"Of course it worked," Malfoy said patronizingly, speaking as if to a small child. "Lie."

"Uh, I hate pumpkin juice," I said. Instantly my face felt weird and tingly, and looking cross-eyed at my nose, I could see that it was a bright shade of purple.

"And that colour goes so marvelously with your hair," he said dryly. "I'll think I'll let the color fade before I get anywhere near your face."

Unbidden, chills raced down my spine. "Tonight?"

He laughed harshly. "And all this time I thought you were _concerned_ about your friends. Hell, no, Weasley, not tonight. Next week, or maybe next month when your pathetic boyfriend is dead, maybe by Voldemort's hand, and Weasel and Mudblood are captured and being used as target practice for the Death Eaters, which is in actuality much worse than being dead. Trust me, I should know."

I needed to take control of the situation. Forcing myself not to think about the gruesome picture he'd just painted, I took a breath. "Fine," I said coolly, knowing he was right but hating to admit it. "I suppose I can make time in my schedule tonight."

Malfoy smirked.

"And he's not my boyfriend."

Smirk was replaced with puzzlement, but after a long look at my face (which was normal again, thanks to the short thirty-second duration of the purple dye) he glanced away, obviously assured I was telling the truth.

"So start talking," I said coldly, conjuring up a makeshift quill and parchment.

His eyes were chillingly hard. "No."

"No?"

"You heard me, Weasley. You've had your way, now I'm demanding mine. You fulfill your half of the deal, and then I'll keep mine."

"How do I know you will?" I said, narrowing my eyes, and knowing that I'd already pushed my luck far enough. He'd never budge on this one.

"I will."

No purple colour. Gods, he wasn't lying. "Fine," I said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling of dread that ate away at my insides.

His mouth curved into a cold smile, and I desperately fought to maintain my composure as he advanced on me, eyes glittering. "Take off your outer robes."

"I said…"

"Clothes is a relative term, Weaselette. Take off the outer robes."

"No," I said voice shaking slightly. "Maybe…maybe next time."

He shrugged. "Fine," he said, and I didn't have time to marvel at why he was once again giving in so easily.

_Oh my god. He's going to touch me. Draco Malfoy is going to put his slimy dirty Death Eater hands all over me and I'm not stopping him…_

He reached out a steady hand and just lightly brushed my cheek. Instinctively, not meaning to but unable to stop myself, I flinched. Malfoy withdrew his hand immediately, his smirk curling into an expression of distaste . "You disgust me," he spat. "You call me here and beg me for information, then shy away from your side of the deal. You can't even handle me touching your face. Know what, Weasley? Forget it."

He stalked towards the door, and I felt as if my last chance was walking away. Suddenly the Gryffindor part of me pushed away the fear and hesitancy and took control.

"Wait," I said, my voice carrying across the room.

He stopped.

"One more chance, OK?" I said softly, and I could tell he was wavering. Finally, Malfoy turned, and I began walking towards him, unclasping my heavy school robes as I walked, letting then drop on the floor, pulling the clip out and allowing my hair to fall down my back. His eyes glittered and a smile curved at the edges of his mouth; I knew that there was no way he'd leave now. Boys were like that. So stupidly simple sometimes…

I walked right up to him and stopped, my face only inches from his.

He reached out and touched my face again. This time, I didn't flinch.

"I'm impressed, Weaselette."

"Do your worst," I said resignedly.

I wanted to close my eyes so I didn't have to watch him moving in for the proverbial kill, but I didn't trust him; I had to stay alert. It took every ounch of self control I had to keep from pulling away as his mouth took possession of mine.

He started out slowly, softly pressing his lips to mine. His hands settled gently on my waist.

I felt stupid, just standing there, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. Malfoy kissed me again, then pulled away. "Your half of the deal, Weasley."

I knew it was the only way I would get through this, so I closed my eyes and tried to imagine he was Dean or Michael as I slid my arms around his neck. _I can do this. It's for Ron. And Harry and Hermione._

I didn't have to open my eyes to know that he was smirking again. "Better," he said, before kissing me again. His tongue ran along my lower lip, demanding entrance, and as I opened my mouth to him, I felt his hands slowly working their way up—amazingly, though, still on the outside of my school shirt. _It's Dean. Imagine it's just Dean you're kissing. _

Then his tongue slid into my mouth. The rumours I'd heard were true; I'd always laughed at the envious whispers of my classmates that Draco Malfoy was the sex god of Hogwarts. But when it came right down to it, he was an excellent kisser.

An excellent kisser who completely revolted me.

Nevertheless, I ran my fingers through his hair, and was half pleased to hear him groan. I wondered if I was a good kisser. Harry had always told me I was, but I always smacked him and told him the only other girl he'd ever kissed was Cho, so of course he thought I was good.

_Why __am__ I thinking about Harry right now? _I thought angrily as I untangled one of my hands from his hair and brought it down to rest on Malfoy's chest. I had just broken up with Harry. Could it be possible that in the deep recesses of my mind I wished it was Harry standing in front of me?

I pulled myself back to the present. Malfoy was pushing me, and I stumbled a little as he manuevered me up against the wall. Panic rose in my throat, but I choked it down. He wasn't doing anything we hadn't agreed to yet… Push away now, and he'd never give me information.

One of the rough stones was jabbing painfully into my mind, and I slid sideways to a more comfortable position. Malfoy pulled back a little; he must have thought I was shying away from him again, but this time I grabbed his head and pulled it back to me. "Much better," he murmured before kissing me again, with even more ferocity.

But eventually, enough was enough. When I felt I could take it no longer, I pushed him away and quickly put as much distance as possible in the small Charms classroom between us, smoothing out my robes and wiping my mouth.

"Start talking," I said coldly, sending him a withering glare.

Malfoy leered at me, but didn't move in for more. Instead, he headed to the armchair by the fireplace. "The locket your pathetic friends are searching for was bought by Bellatrix Lestrange. She got it at Bourgin and Burkes and brought it to show to my mother last Easter Hols. She didn't say where she was going to take it, but it's entirely possible that it could be in her vault at Gringotts, somewhere in her house, or even on her person. She may have even given it back to Voldemort, but I highly doubt it, because he would have immediately gone to check the rest of his Horcruxes."

I madly scribbled the information on the parchment. "What else?"

"I don't think I'm going to tell you any more tonight," he drawled, twirling his wand lazily in his fingers.

"You haven't told me anything at all!"

"Then maybe next time you'd better put a little more effort into your side of the deal."

"Bastard," I hissed as I gathered up my things and shrugged my robes back on.

"So, same time, same place, next week?" Malfoy inquired.

"I'll let you know," I said coldly, folding the parchments and tucking it into my pocket. "Don't get your hopes up."

"Weasley."

His voice made me halt unwillingly next to the door. I turned and found him watching me. "You sure you're not dying for more? I know you liked it."

Choking back a rush of fury, I shot him a glare that couldn't even begin to convey what I was feeling. "That did nothing for me, Malfoy. Nothing at all."

Then, without a backward glance, I left.


	5. The Truth

**Disclaimer: **If I were Rowling, Fred Weasley wouldn't have died. Neither would Lupin and Tonks and Dobby and Snape and Sirius, for that matter, which is why it's a good thing I'm _not _her. Yeah, I don't own Harry Potter.

The corridors were empty as I quickly ascended the stairways to the seventh floor. I was glad, having no particular desire to meet anyone right about now.

They would probably take one look at my burning face and know.

It felt like that, anyway. Inside, I was burning with shame. What had I just done? What level was I now willing to stoop to simply for information? What had I agreed to?

Then another thought struck me like a bludger to the head. What would Harry or Ron say if they knew the conditions to which I'd agreed to in order to help them? Quite honestly, I didn't want to know. I resolved that they would never find out. Never.

A glance at my watch showed that it was nearly nine o'clock and I quickened my steps, not wanting to be caught out of the tower after curfew. I wasn't worried about Gryffindor prefects—I knew them all personally and had plenty of dirt for leverage if they tried to get me into trouble. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs didn't faze me either—it was the Slytherins I was especially worried about. Since the beginning of the semester, they'd grown much more forward and outspoken in their hatred of Muggleborns, half-bloods, and anyone who didn't side with the Pureblood regime. Even their interhouse relations with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had rapidly declined. Things had begun to happen—unexplainable things that couldn't be traced back to the Slytherins, but we all knew which party was responsible for the rumours that had been spreading that Harry had actually killed Dumbledore, not Snape, for the anti-Muggleborn talk that had been getting louder every week, and for the second year Gryffindor Muggleborn who was found locked in a dark broom closet, unable to remember how she'd gotten there. They especially hated relatives of Order members, which put me at the top of their target list. I didn't even feel safe around the prefects.

Fortunately, I reached the Gryffindor tower without any trouble.

The Common Room was blessedly empty. I headed for the stairs; I had a letter to write.

* * *

_Dear Ron_

A long pause followed as I considered whether to berate the git for not replying immediately. In the end, though, I decided to cut straight to the point.

_Bellatrix Lestrange has Slytherin's locket. She may either be carrying it on her person, or it could be hidden in her vault at Gringotts or at her current place of residence. My source doesn't think she turned it over to Voldemort—if she had, Voldemort would immediately have begun checking his other Horcruxes, and __there__ would have been hell to pay._

_No, I won't tell you who my informer is. You have your secrets, I have mine. Just know that everything I tell you is true—I've taken measures to ensure that._

_I don't want to sound like Mum, but please be careful._

I paused again. They had no idea what Mum was going through, what I had experienced before getting Ron's letter—how could they? In their eyes, they were simply protecting us by leaving us in the dark. I felt like letting Ron have it for disappearing, for making Mum cry every night, for causing grey hairs to appear on Dad's head, for leaving such a gaping hole in our family that even my older brothers had to sneak around, hardly daring to whisper Ron, Harry, and Hermione's names… But I restrained myself with the promise that the very next time I saw him I'd give it to him good.

_When you reply, I'll send you more information regarding the other Horcruxes._

_Tell Harry and Hermione hi for me._

_Love, Ginny

* * *

_

"You look happier today," Anya remarked as I slid in next to her at breakfast the next day.

In response, I grinned. I did feel better. I'd posted the letter to Ron early that morning and was confident of a soon reply—maybe even as soon as the evening post.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said dryly as Colin sat down across from us.

"Hey, Gin, Anya," he said brightly, reaching for the toast. "Pass the butter."

"Don't call me Gin," I said, scowling. That had been Harry's name for me. Exclusively.

"Sorry," said Colin, not sounding sorry at all. "So, Ginny, will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

"No, Colin, she _won't,_" Demelza said exasperatedly, tossing her hair as she slid in next to him. "Honestly, how many times will it take to get it through your abnormally thick skull that Ginny does NOT want to date you?"

"At least once more," Colin said stubbornly. "And I'd rather hear it from her, if you don't mind.

I sighed. "No, Colin."

"What about me?" Neville said, appearing on my right. He grinned teasingly. "Want to go to Hogsmeade with _me_?"

"What is it with me and guys?" I cried in frustration, only half joking. I was thinking of the stupid blonde ferret sitting on the opposite side of the hall. I still couldn't figure out why he wanted me in the first place. It wasn't as if I was pretty or anything. I had red hair and _freckles_, for Merlin's sake!

"You don't get it, do you?" Neville said. "You're beautiful, Ginny."

We all turned to stare at him incredulously. "What?" he said, shrugging. "It's true!"

I blinked. Neville was serious. He'd never been good at subtlety, something he and Luna definitely had in common. "No, I'm not," I said automatically.

"Sure you are," Neville insisted. "You don't see the guys the other blokes give you all the time, do you?" He reddened slightly. "I mean, not me, of course, but some of the other seventh years…."

"That's dung," I said, a little nonplussed. To my utter horror, though, Demelza and Anya were nodding their heads. "It's not true…it can't be…"

"Ginny's hot," Colin piped up. "I think she's pretty."

"Your opinion doesn't count, twerp," Demelza snapped. Colin just grinned. Inside, I groaned.

"You're just blind," Neville said coolly. "I dorm with Dean and Seamus; do you have any idea what blokes talk about when girls aren't around? I had no idea before—of course they never talked about you when…" He swallowed. "…when your brother and Harry were around…" He trailed off, looking apprehensively in my direction; it was almost as if he expected an explosion.

I motioned for him to continue, though I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear it all.

"They…they think you're hot. Really…hot. Dean moans about losing you last year, Seamus gives him ideas on how to get you back, and they both can't stop talking about your…about you," Neville finished, looking very uncomfortable.

My face was burning. _Stop, just stop, NOW! _I wanted to yell.

"But it's not just them," Neville continued bravely. "I know a lot of sixth and fifth years who think the same thing."

"But…but that's horrible!"

"It's not as bad as all that," Anya said, giving Neville a look. "I mean, some of what you said was true, but not all of it…"

"But even if it was true, it's not horrible," Demelza told me. "Any girl would kill to be in your position."

"I wouldn't," Anya muttered.

"You're not normal," the other girl snapped. "I mean, Ginny could get about any bloke in the school she wanted. And all the guys want her."

"But this time, the bloke is Malfoy," Anya pointed out quietly.

Four heads snapped around to stare at her. And then, they all turned to look at me.

"Not true!"

"Is true," Demelza confirmed.

"Is not! How'd you know, Anya?" I demanded.

She shrugged. "I was observant. I put the pieces together.

"Not true!"

"Is true," Demelza confirmed.

"Is not! How'd you know, Anya?" I demanded.

She shrugged. "I was observant. I put the pieces together."

I groaned. "Now Colin knows. The whole school will be talking about it soon."

"I won't say…OK, I'll _try_ not to say anything," Colin promised.

"Half the school already knows if they're even halfway observant," Anya said. "Quite a lot of girls fancy him, but of course he's usually out of bounds unless you're brainless, beautiful, and Slytherin."

"Please, people!" I said angrily. "I was trying to have a nice breakfast and you're _ruining_ it by talking about Draco bloody Malfoy. Can we change the subject? Anything. Anything but Malfoy." I was suddenly inspired. "Quidditch! We can talk about Quidditch."

Neville, Colin, and Anya groaned, but Demelza perked up. "Yeah, our first game's next week," she began, looking worried. "Do you think we're rea…"

"Omigod, he's watching you!" Colin hissed angrily.

"He _is!" _Demelza confirmed in a whisper from her seat next to Colin. "What the hell…"

Casually, I turned, just far enough to get a look. There he was, sitting next with all his cronies. Parkinson was hanging on his arm and simpering at his every word as always, and when Malfoy saw me looking back at me he winked and sent me a smirk before turning back to murmur something in her ear.

"Bastard," I whispered, my good morning completely ruined.

My friends were watching me carefully I turned back, carefully rearranging my features to an expressionless look.

"Can I go punch him?" Neville asked hopefully.

"Yeah, me too," said Colin.

"Then I'll castrate him and tie him to a cursed broom," Demelza finished, and both boys winced.

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. "I appreciate it, but I can take care of Malfoy. And myself, for that matter."

"Are you sure?" Anya said, and I sent her a look. She shrugged. "Just trying to be the supportive friend."

"I'm fine," I said untruthfully, sending them a weak smile and quickly standing. "I'll see you guys later, OK? Right now I've got to leave before I lose it and curse him into the next century."

* * *

The letter arrived the next day. By that time, I'd nearly bitten all my fingernails off and pulled all my hair off. 

My friends thought it was all due to Malfoy, and kept asking if they could "take care of him."

They _were_ sweet, I had to admit to myself as I dashed up the stairway looking for a quiet place to read the letter from Ron clutched tightly in my hand, but it was all completely unnecessary. I was a big girl, and I could take care of myself. Besides, I was scared that if they started prying more into my affairs regarding Malfoy, they might discover something. And wouldn't that be the ultimate gossip banquet for the school to feast on? Ginny Weasley, ex-girlfriend of Harry Potter, making out with the hottest Slytherin and her archenemy of six years. A laugh bubbled inside of me at the mere absurdity of the idea. Then I shook my head—sometimes it all seemed surreal, like I was floating high above watching myself go throughout my day in third person, completely unattached. My life was so complicated.

Finally, I found an empty classroom, and ducked inside to tear into the letter.

Dissapointingly, but also a relief in an odd way, the letter wasn't extraordinary. A plea for more information regarding Bellatrix Lestrange's residence, schedule, and habits followed the greetings; they had once again inquired as to how I was, and demanded to know the source of my information. Ron had written the letter, Hermione, the postscript. Harry had written nothing at all.

I reread the letter twice, looking for hidden meanings, but it seemed perfectly normal. I tucked it back into my pocket and grit my teeth.

It was time to go find Malfoy again.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for such a long wait between updates. Horrible writers' block.


	6. The Retort

Two days later, I arrived at the classroom first. Three and a half minutes later, Malfoy arrived. _You have to admit, he's punctual,_ I thought, looking up from my seat on Flitwick's broad desk. I had picked the desk instead of nervous pacing, thinking the latter option would definitely present Malfoy with the wrong picture.

_Calm, cool, collected.__ I can do this._

Malfoy's cold eyes swept the room. "Pathetic, Weasley," he said. "You've got the whole castle to pick from, and you still choose to meet me in this drafty classroom."

"I picked this classroom because it is the one place in this castle where we won't be disturbed," I said icily, feeling a little of my confidence returning. I was still in control of the situation. "If you had eyes, _Ferret,_" I continued, "you'd know that every afternoon after class, Flitwick gathers up all the papers turned in and floos to his home in Hogsmeade where he lives with his wife. You'd also have known that he doesn't return to the school unless there's an emergency or conflict within his House."

For a fleeting second, Malfoy looked impressed. Then I thought I must have made a mistake, because the disinterested mask was back in place.

"So basically you picked this place because you were afraid," he taunted. "Afraid of what it would do to your sterling reputation if people found you with me?"

I opened my mouth angrily to retort, but then shut it again. Having my face turn purple from a lie would be much more embarrassing than just telling the truth.

"Fine," I said. "I'll admit it. I sure as hell don't want anyone finding out about our deal."

I knew that it'd cost me something to admit the truth.

He knew it too, and smirked in that infuriating way of his. "Oh, but I thought this…arrangement would be perfectly suitable for you, Weaslette, the way you go through blokes. First Corner, then Thomas… Then you go and shag the bloody Boy Who Lived, and now the Slytherin king. The way you're going, you'll be competing with Brown for the title of Gryffindor slut soon…"

Something inside me snapped. "Take it back, Malfoy!" I hissed, my wand instantly at his throat. The rage inside of me that I'd held back began to swell, and behind me, I heard glass breaking.

Malfoy, I was pleased to see, looked more than a little nervous. But I wasn't finished yet.

"You aren't allowed to call me a slut. You of all people, Draco Malfoy, do _not_ get to call me a slut. You, who go through girls like changes of robes, you, who would sleep with any girl at Hogwarts at the drop of a quill, you, who have no morals at all…"

There was a loud crack as a desk behind me splintered into a thousand pieces.

"And in this case, you're not even entitled to the thoughts that I might be a slut. Because I'm not! If anyone in here is a whore, it's you. You with your endless sex drive and your sick mind. You're thoughtless, heartless, and apparently brainless as well. But I am _not _like you, and if you ever—_EVER—_insinuate that that I am again, this deal will be OVER, and when I finish with you, you'll will wish you'd never, ever met me."

The quivering ferret had the nerve to grab for his wand, but I halted him by jabbing my wand into the soft skin of his neck. D.A. meetings had taught me well never to underestimate the opponent. "Don't even try it," I said dangerously. "I'm not through with you yet. But when I am, if I do choose to let you get away unmaimed, perhaps we can duel. But I'll tell you right now, I'll win. Either way, you're not in a position to be talking. So shut the hell up, and listen to me."

He stopped twitching.

"There _is _a difference between us," I hissed. "There _is. _Do you want to know why I'm different? I'm different because the _only _reason I am doing this because I have people I care about. You are doing this—using me—because you're a mindless sex-crazed bastard. That's the difference between you and me. I am humiliating myself, lowering myself into the dirt so I can do something—_something to help._ Because I care. Because my friends and family are fighting, fighting the war they might not survive, and if I can do this one thing to help the war end sooner, to help defeat Voldemort so one day we can _all_ live without the fear that our lives might be over in a second, I'm willing to make that sacrifice. That's the difference between us, Malfoy. I have something to live for, people to live for. You don't. Right now, I'm convinced you don't even have a heart to care, not about any of the girls you've ever been with, not about anyone."

I paused, trying to pull all my thoughts together, and then _glared. _"You _don't _get to call me a slut."

For a moment, I just stood there, staring him down. Malfoy seemed to be a statue. Slowly, I took a step back, still keeping my wand up. Then another step, and another. My wand dropped an inch when I was sure he wasn't going anywhere soon.

"And one more thing," I added. "For the last time, I never shagged Harry, in case you've forgotten the definition of the word 'virgin.'"

Malfoy moved, slightly. Good. I definitely didn't want him dead—who would I get information from then?

I let my eyes leave him for a moment to sweep the room. "Gods, what a mess," I muttered, surveying the damage. Three desks were in shambles, as well as seven or eight glass containers on the shelves. One book had been completely ripped apart, and there were some black burn marks on several walls. Nothing too serious, thankfully.

I turned back to the ferret. "Don't just stand there," I snapped. "Help me clean this up."

Sulking, he obeyed, moving to the opposite side of the room and pointing his wand at a pile of glass. "Reparo."

I concentrated my attentions on the desk and the burn marks on the walls. Fortunately, Mum had taught me cleansing charms that would take the scorches off, and Reparo would fix the desk nicely.

When the condition of the room was satisfactory, I turned back to Malfoy. "Tell me about Bellatrix Lestrange."

"No."

His answer completely threw me off. _"No?"_

He crossed his arms. "You heard me, Weaselbrat. No. Not until you do your part of the deal."

"You just insulted me, and you expect me turn right around and make out with you?" I said incredulously.

"And you just practically cussed me out, so we're even."

"I've got a wand."

"I've got one too." He showed it to me, in a subtly threatening way. The dim firelight reflected off of the shiny wood.

"But…"

"Going to curse me, Weasel?" Malfoy jeered, eyes glittering. "Go ahead and try. But you won't get anything out of me unless you give me something I actually want first."

I fumed, argued, and threatened, but it turns out that Malfoy is more stubborn than I am, because I finally had to concede victory. Well, I'd normally have held out much longer, but getting the information was more important than holding my ground. Harry, Ron, and Hermione could be anywhere right now.

"Fine," I spat, and he smirked.

_Anger.__ Anger is good,_ I told myself as I forced myself to close the distance between us.

I had thought that it would be easier the second time around. _But this is much __harder,_ I thought as I slowly ran my hand up his shoulder and grasped his neck to pull his head down to mine. He grunted in approval before taking possession of my mouth.

Anger definitely had its advantages, though. I focused on the anger, and my kissing became more aggressive. Visions of hexing, publically humiliating, or even murdering Malfoy filled my mind, and helped me take the lead this time, deepening the kiss, pushing him across the room until he sank back into the chair by the fire, seating myself on his lap, breaking apart only to plant openmouthed kisses on his jaw and chin.

Malfoy groaned, and I took careful note of his hands, creeping their way up my sides. This time, they were under my shirt, but still on the outside of my camisole. I shivered as his fingers reached the bare skin around my shoulders, but thankfully, Malfoy began to trace circles on my back rather than move his hands any farther forward.

I aimed once again for his face, one hand on his neck, the other on his chest. "Gods, Weasley," he rasped before taking possession of my lips. I slipped my tongue into his mouth, and he groaned again.

Did he honestly think I was turned on by this at all? It seemed so. He pulled one hand out from under my shirt and placed it on my knee, though it wasn't going to stay there for long. The revulsion I felt became overpoweringly strong as his hand worked its way up my inner thigh, and finally I pushed him away, unable to take any more.

I stood and backed away to straighten my shirt and hair. "Now, tell me about Bellatrix Lestrange."

* * *

_I'm going to kill him. _As I stomped up the final staircase to the seventh floor, I fumed. My anger crackled and popped inside of me, and I could almost feel sparks coming from my fingertips. How dare he even imply that I was a whore? How dare he question my motives?

I wanted to murder him, but for now I could only content myself with coming up with fantastic plans in my mind. Right now, sadly enough, I needed him alive.

"Password?" the Fat Lady said.

"Happiness," I said, feeling that the password _definitely _didn't fit my mood tonight. She swung open, and I strode into the Common Room.

"Oi, Ginny, where were you?" Demelza called from table nearby. "I was looking for you."

"In the library," I said shortly.

She frowned. "I was just there."

_Darnit__…_ "I was in the back. You must have just missed me," I said quickly, and although her frown deepened, she seemed to accept my answer.

"Want to study with us?" she asked, gesturing to the table where her and Anita Spinnet had their Transfiguration textbooks spread out.

"Uh, no thanks," I replied, trying to look apologetic. "I'm really tired."

"Your loss," Demelza said lightly, but I noticed her sending me a strange look as I headed toward the stairway.

Fortunately the sixth year dormitory was empty. I flopped down on my bed and sighed in relief. Finally, some peace and quiet so I could think.

Slowly I kicked off my shoes and pulled my outer robes off. I grabbed my Charms textbook from the stack next to my bed and with a flick of my wrist, wandlessly closed the curtains around the bed and lit the interior with magical light. I hadn't figured out yet how to cast more complicated spells without a wand, but I could make light easy enough.

But even curled up on my bed with my books open in front of me, I couldn't study. I felt dirty, almost as if I hadn't taken a shower in days. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hands creeping up my arms, his lips pressing urgently against mine, his eyes boring holes into me…

_Is this how I'll always feel? _I wondered. I certainly hoped not. I didn't even feel like I could be around my friends any more. When I was with them, I always felt like they could tell what I'd been doing simply by looking at me. Somehow, they knew… And then, my cheeks would flame…

Shame. Shame was what I felt the most—shame at allowing myself to be used like this, even if it was for a good cause.

_Think of Ron and Harry and Hermione…_

But even the thoughts of my best friends couldn't console me tonight.

At last, I gave up and put my books away, then crawled into bed and extinguished the light with a snap of my fingers.


End file.
